


high definition

by bratainamerica



Series: no matter how hard i try, this is only ever gonna end in my demise [4]
Category: House M.D.
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Catholic Guilt, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s01 e05 Damned If You Do, Friends With Benefits, Greg House Being an Asshole, I think I'm funny, John Mulaney References, M/M, POV Robert Chase, and it makes no sense besides i wanted a john mulaney reference, bc like that's there, break-ups, chase is having a CRISIS, does it count as smut if theres a non-graphic prostate exam?, heavily copied from the episode ngl sorry, introspective, kinda it's third pov, make-ups, sorry man this is like 10000 words of angst, there will be more juicy tags added for the second chapter dw man, this is sad tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26316496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratainamerica/pseuds/bratainamerica
Summary: Chase didn't want to go back to religion, he'd left it long ago. But now it was back, and it was drowning him in his own past mistakes.**THIS IS THE FOURTH WORK IN A SERIES, OTHER WORKS NOT NEEDED BUT RECOMMENDED FOR BEST ENJOYMENT**
Relationships: Robert Chase/Greg House
Series: no matter how hard i try, this is only ever gonna end in my demise [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792645
Comments: 13
Kudos: 46





	1. i need to be needed

**Author's Note:**

> hey y'all!! how are you? i know, it's been a month since i posted. in my defense this fic is ten thousand words and this is only chapter one. i would like to make this known, this is a lot of introspective on chase's past, the feelings he feels does not convey my visions on Catholicism, i mean no harm. however, i am not Catholic so please let me know if i get anything wrong. also yeah, chase does an entire non-graphic prostate exam but know that it was completely stolen from John Mulaney's, New In Town. i hope y'all are doing well! stay safe and healthy!
> 
> xoxo, ollie.
> 
> chapter and work title from High Definition by Waterparks

Chase woke up alone in House’s bed once again, he hadn’t been sleeping over as often as he used to, but they still had their weekly Tuesday fuck. Waking up alone wasn’t surprising, House was House, he woke up at absurd hours in the night and read eclectic foreign medical journals all because he wanted to find out if one could use a pig kidney as a substitute for a human’s. (According to House the answer was, scientists are working on it) 

Chase pulled on one of House’s button-ups from the floor so he wasn’t mostly naked when he went to go check on House. He walked quietly on the hardwood floor through the hallway only to find House sitting on the kitchen island. “Why aren’t you in bed?” Chase asked, accent thick with the weariness of just waking up. 

House looked up at Chase’s voice, and hummed for a second before answering, “Leg hurt, why are you up?” House gestured to his leg for effect. Chase stepped further into the kitchen, going straight over to the coffee machine and starting to take a cup. 

“I have work in a bit and I need to shower. You really should be coming into work on time,” Chase reminded him. House groaned, getting off the kitchen island and grabbing his cane from next to him. He hobbled over to Chase, coming up behind him, leaving one hand on Chase’s him and began kissing the blonde’s neck.

When House finally got to Chase’s jaw bone, he stopped, “How about, I join you in the shower, and I still don’t go to work on time.” Chase tilted his neck, giving House more room to pepper kisses on his neck. 

Chase took a deep breath and House’s mouth traveled to his jaw. “Or, you can join me in the shower and go to work on time.” House pulled away with a pout as Chase grabbed the coffee pit and poured himself a cup of coffee. 

He drank it black, which House considered a crime. Granted, Chase didn’t care what House considered crimes because he didn’t consider actual felonies, crimes. House wrinkled his nose as Chase took a sip of his coffee. 

He pulled away, Chase righted himself and turned around so now he was facing House. “Just go fuck around in the clinic, it’ll make Cuddy happy,” he told the older man, he went up in his tippy toes to kiss House’s cheek and to pat the side of his face before exiting the kitchen.

House’s eyes trailed from the blonde’s hair to Chase’s ass as he left, and it was then that House realized he should definitely be following Chase instead of just staring at him.

Somehow, the whole team had ended up being on clinic duty, the punishment for not having a case. Although House was definitely not doing his work, (Chase saw him fucking around with Wilson in the lobby) He huffed to himself, silently cursing clinic duty and the sheer fact that he just wanted to work on his crossword puzzle. (he elected to ignore that a tiny part of him wanted to stare at House and smile) 

Chase opened the door, looking over the chart of a man named Joseph Michaels and nodding to himself. “Hello Mr. Michaels, I’m Dr. Chase,” he started, Chase placed the file on the counter and washed his hands, “What seems to be the problem?” He finally asked. He turned around, leaning on the counter and looking towards the patient.

“Er-” The man seemed awkward about it, hesitant. Chase almost sighed, but no that was rude. Maybe House was rubbing off on him more than he thought. The blonde gave Mr. Michaels a soft smile, holding up his hand. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen a lot. Not much can surprise me.” Mr. Michaels worries seemed calmed at that, and Chase went back to relaxing against the counter, “So, your problem?” 

The man was quickly back on track, “Right.” Mr. Michaels took a deep breath, “Uh- frequent urination.” Chase nodded in response, humming softly, he took out the chart, preparing to write everything down.

“Have you been drinking more than usual recently?” Chase asked he tried to get the more standard questions first. Working with House had taught him to yearn for zebras but medical school had taught him to look for horses. It might just be a case of idiotitis, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. 

“No,” Mr. Michaels said definitively, “Just a couple water bottles a day,” Chase nodded, scribbling down the notes he’d end up refining later. 

“Okay,” Chase internally groaned, why couldn’t this just be someone stupid. He was so looking forward to getting a break after this patient. House probably hadn’t done any of his work and no one was going to yell at him for that. Or, well he would be yelled at, House just wouldn’t respond to the scolding. “And about how many times have you been urinating a day?” 

Mr. Michaels floundered for a second, “Er- eleven?” Chase’s eyes widened for a second, stuttering on his confirmation. Chase grabbed a pair of gloves.

“Have you had any pains in your bones?” Once again, Mr. Michaels floundered and Chase realized he was probably lying, but just in case he wasn’t Chase was still expected to do his job. Despite being with House, and slowly becoming more and more like him, he still had to be nice to his patients. 

“Yes?” Chase continued with putting the gloves on, of course, it was a prostate exam. He hated things like this. 

“Okay, I'm going to have to check your prostate, you might have something wrong. Then I’m going to send in a nurse to take some blood.” Chase stated, he watched as Mr. Michaels paled and watched as he stood up. Chase grabbed a bottle of medical-grade lube from one of the cabinets. “Can you drop your pants and lean over the table for me?” 

Mr. Michaels unzipped his pants and let them fall to his ankles, Chase tried not to huff as he had to correct the man’s position with one hand. Squirting out the lube onto his fingers he started the exam. 

And that was a moan. 

House either had impeccable timing or deplorable timing. It was just Chase’s luck that House happened to walk in when Chase’s fingers were in a guy’s ass. Didn’t House understand privacy? That was a dumb question, the answer is no. “Hey, wombat, we have a case!” 

Used to House barging in on his cases, Chase groaned. His hand was still inside the patient and there was no way this wasn’t embarrassing for all three of them. With his spare hand, he waved the older man off. “House, I’m in the middle of something.” He paused for a second, processing what his boss had said. He turned to House, flinching when he realized that his hand was still in a patient. “What’s the case?” 

“I’ll let you and the other children know, c’mon.” He beckoned for Chase to follow him and huffed at Chase’s glare. “You’ll find out in five, don’t be an idiot.” 

Chase gave up at trying to get House to get House to spill the beans. He rolled his eyes and gestured for House to leave the room. “I’m sorry for that,” He grimaced to himself and Mr. Michaels’ although the man couldn’t see it.“I’m needed by my boss, I’ll get another doctor to finish this exam.” 

Chase removed his hand from Mr. Michaels’ body and removed the gloves, throwing them out and going to wash his hands. He did not miss the other man speaking. “Oh, I’m sorry.” 

Chase cocked his head to the side in confusion because there was nothing to warrant an apology. Still, Chase nodded. “Er- that’s alright.” Chase took a moment to page Wilson. “I just paged Dr. Wilson, he’ll be here in a minute. So you can pull your pants up until he comes back.” 

Mr. Michaels nodded, his cheeks bright red. “Thank you, Doctor.” Chase gave an awkward smile and waved before leaving the room. God, he hated giving prostate exams.

He saw House waiting for him outside the exam room and almost smiled. That was sweet for him to wait and completely unlike him. He didn’t see Foreman or Cameron around so it wasn’t that House was picking them up as a preschool teacher would. 

“Why are you waiting for me?” Chase asked, skeptical of House’s true intentions. House grinned like the Cheshire Cat and Chase sighed as they began walking towards the elevator.

“Fingers in some guys ass didn't know you could do that.” And there it was. Chase didn’t answer for a couple of seconds choosing to glare at House. House broke, “C’mon! You can’t expect me to walk in on you doing a prostate exam and _not_ make a sex joke!” 

Chase pushed House’s shoulder, thankful that they were the only two people in the elevator. “Shut up, you're the only person I’d bottom for.” While that was technically a lie since House didn’t know about his previous sexual partners and previous experiences in certain communities in certain roles, Chase wasn’t going to tell House until it was absolutely necessary and he actually trusted House not to be a dick about it.

It was House so that was never going to happen.

“Oh, now you’re just fucking with me!” House exclaimed. Chase decided not to dignify that with a response, a verbal response, at least. Does it count as disrespectful to give your boss the middle finger if you’re also sleeping with said boss?

House sighed at the pouty Chase, “Fine if you're going to act that way I'll tell Cameron and Foreman the case and I’ll make it up to you in my office.” Chase’s mouth opened in shock, sputtering for an answer. 

They’d had sex in the office before, except it was at night when they were practically the only people in the hospital. Never at noon when the hospital’s in full swing. 

“Your office is glass,” Chase reminded lightly. House didn’t seem to have a problem with that. He just shrugged waiting for an answer, the elevator dinged and opened and Chase walked out before House. “The answer is no, House.” 

They meet up with Foreman and Cameron in the hallway when House starts telling them the case. Cameron immediately popped in with a diagnosis and Foreman bounced off of her. He tuned them out for a second, more focussed on the cracks in the floor. 

“Vasculitis? That wouldn’t give you an elevated eosinophil count,” Foreman told House. House knew that Chase knew that House knew that, meaning there was an underlying diagnosis that House was getting to. 

House rolled his eyes, “Churg-Strauss vasculitis would.” Chase did what could only be described as a shrug with his face, “Blood vessels of the heart, lungs, and skin become inflamed causing the asthma, rash and heart problems. Covers all her symptoms.” It did cover all their symptoms, it sucked it was a shitty life expectancy.

They reached House’s outer office, House opened the door, beginning to let it close for the other three before they weaned their way in. Asshole. “Need a biopsy to diagnose,” Cameron chimed in quickly. Chase agreed of course, but they didn't know how much time they had.

“Chest CT is quicker,” He told them, eyes widening happily when he saw the candy canes on the table. He didn’t miss the accusing glare that Foreman gave House.

“The lady just came in with a rash.”

He couldn’t blame Foreman either, he’d only been working for House for a couple of months, but House’s reputation had to precede him. House was talented, of course, he was the most well-known diagnostician in the country. It wasn’t often, or ever, that House made stupid mistakes like that.

House stopped short, eyes glossing over the conference room table in front of them. “What the hell are those?” Chase’s hand flew back like it was burned. The others halted too.

“Candy canes.” Cameron finally said. Foreman seemingly didn’t care. He just grabbed a candy cane and rolled his eyes, Chase had to agree with him there, he gave House a tentative look before reluctantly taking a candy cane.

“Candy canes? Are you mocking me?”

“No! It’s Christmas and, and I, I, I thought –” Cameron stuttered out, House rolled his eyes, apparently not entertained by her anymore.

“Relax. It’s a joke.” The ‘joke’ fell flat. Despite Chase being the one who normally laughed at House’s jokes, (Yes, it _was_ because he _did_ actually find them funny) He just rolled his eyes this time, finally taking a candy cane and breaking it in half to eat it.

Chase zoned out, his eyes trailing to the table and his mind filled with the overwhelming images of the night before. House’s hands trailing down his sides, lips ghosting over his neck and chest. His legs wrapped around House’s waist as House held him against the bed. 

The moments after were so uncharacteristically tender, the way they’d sat next to each other House’s bed, coffee in hand as they laughed and talked about their coworkers. Including an in-depth (and rather angry) rundown of the most recent episodes of Prescription Passion. It had left Chase reeling, and House pushing him off the bed.

“Order a chest CT and start the sister on prednisone, 40 mg. TID.” Chase’s head shot up, coming back into the conversation, he scrunched up his nose, letting it fall before speaking.

“The sister?” He asked he felt his blood coursing through his veins. Years of Catholicism washing over him like an old friend, or maybe a worst enemy. Flashbacks of boarding school, and 

seminary, and his past that he’d gotten so far from. 

House seemed lighthearted, the smug bastard. “Oh, didn’t I mention? The patient’s a nun.” Chase deflated, his eyebrows furrowing, a firm pout planted on his face. “Sister Augustine.” 

Chase shuddered, there was a Sister Augustine in St. Peter’s where he spent eleven years. She was a bitch, to be frank. Punishing for the dumbest things, like the time Chase slipped and spoke about his mother and father in a bitter way, which was totally justified in his opinion, and it “broke the fifth commandment.” Chase hated nuns.

House shrugged, giving him a stupid smirk, “Who doesn’t?” 

When Chase entered the room with Cameron and Foreman and the TV was on, he couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath. He bit his lip, hopelessly keeping his mouth shut. 

Cameron and her god-forsaken bleeding heart made their presence known. The nuns quickly turned off the TV and rectified their actions. He rolled his eyes to himself although he was sure Foreman saw. 

Cameron introduced them, with her warm eyes and showed them the _correct_ remote. Foreman gave a stiff nod and Chase a smile that was nowhere near the smile he normally gave patients. It wasn’t a patented fake smile that could make rooms light up that he was forced to learn as a child. It was a stunted quirk of his lips with stony eyes that he hoped got across the message of dislike.

“I hadn’t seen television in over twenty years,” Sister Augustine said. Chase hadn’t seen much of television as a child either. Of course, it was because of the lack of time indoors, but the seminary didn’t have it. The only thing he remembered from school were the weird Catholic preachy movies they’d watched when it rained.

“Do you consider it the work of the devil, or do you just not get cable where you live?” Chase scoffed bitterly. It was clear his joke had fallen flat with the awkward silence that echoed around the room.

He inwardly winced, he’d finally gotten out of the religion he’d been brought into as a child. Almost got rid of the indoctrinated thoughts, and now here was someone new, taunting him for leaving. 

Foreman’s eyes widened, Chase saw them indirectly making contact with Cameron. He glared hopelessly at the both of them. “Um, how’re you feeling, Sister?” Foreman asked, quickly changing the subject. At her answer, and general statement, Foreman quickly turned back to the medicine.

The awkward silence from Chase’s earlier statement hung in the air. He could feel Cameron’s gaze wordlessly scolding him and because she was well Cameron, he could expect a conversation from House later. 

Oh House, Chase was comfortable with House. But this stupid fucking case brought back feelings he didn’t even know he had anymore. The feelings of needing to please. To be good in God’s eyes. To _not_ sin. 

Being with House was a sin. It was an addictive sin, something that had become his vice. It was like House’s drugs, something that he’d come to rely on. No matter how many times both said that what they did didn’t matter. 

_It did_.

How could something so wrong make him feel so goddamn good?

He didn’t know when or why he zoned out. But he stopped speaking, watching his legs follow the others outside to the hallway. His mind only coming back from being away when Foreman directed the conversation to him. “What about you, Chase? You think he’s infallible, too?”

And of course he spoke about House. Chase swallow, putting his hands up and shrugging, “All I know is, if House didn’t make a mistake and Sister Augustine has Churg-Strauss, he’ll be self-satisfied and our lives will be good for a few weeks.” He tilted his head to the side and gave a knowing grimace, the others knew what he was going to say before he completed his sentence. He still completed it. “If House did make a mistake, he’ll be upset and our lives will be miserable for months.” 

He hoped (not prayed, keep that in mind, because no, he was _not_ falling back in with a religion he tried so hard to forget) that House wasn’t wrong. 

Chase was short when he was with the nun, maybe, it was flashbacks from walking to the Dean’s office in grade school. Maybe it was a stupid prejudice on Catholicism as a whole. Was it that stupid of a prejudice. It was something that caused him strife as a kid, and yeah he was better with it now, but it still hurt.

Sister Augustine was fine, he guessed. She wasn’t anyone he had a particular interest in. “I was talking to the nurse, Arsenio. Do you know him?”

Chase scoffed, “Not really.” It was true, he didn’t, he didn’t care much about the people he worked with. He had come for a job and now kept his social circle to the very small amount of House, Cameron, and maybe, Foreman. However, he didn’t think Foreman liked him very much.

“He can take pictures with his phone.”

“Cool.” 

“That woman from the lab was interesting, too. She studied astrophysics before becoming a nurse.” Chase’s brows furrowed. He slept with the woman from the lab. He didn’t remember her name, Eleanor? Jane? Lila? It didn’t matter, the sex didn’t matter. He didn’t care enough. 

“You know the staff better than I do.” Yet another half-assed truth. He slept with a lot of the nurses, and even a couple of the older doctors, but he’s never had a full conversation with them outside of drinks and sex.

“Well, I love to hear about people.” Chase almost wanted to scoff. He was reading into it but she just sounded condescending. 

“Yet you live in a monastery,” He bit back. The num seemed unphased.

In fact, she seemed happy, her voiced lilted and floaty when she spoke. “It’s where I serve our Lord and the world best.”

“Our Lord, maybe.” Truly, he didn’t understand why he was so caught up in the religion as a teen. The religion shunned him for something he couldn’t control, no matter how hard he tried to fix it by sleeping with the _many, many,_ women that just cemented one thing into his mind. _He definitely liked men_. That didn't stop him from trying to fix it though. “The rest of the world, on the other hand, would probably get more out of feeding the homeless or –” He could ramble, but he was cut off.

“Healing the sick?” She sounded like she caught a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He felt his stomach churn and swallowed the feeling of dread rising in his throat.

“As an example, yeah.” 

“Did you always want to be a doctor?” She finally asked, after a couple of seconds of silence.

Chase had to think it over. Because the answer was no. He hadn’t. He hadn’t wanted to spend Fridays and Saturdays studying. Spend four more years at a college he didn’t even like. He hadn’t wanted to have the job he had shoved down his throat by the memory of his father and the constant reminder that he was a fuck up.

_He’d wanted to be in the exact position she was in now._

Instead, it came out, “Always.” She gave him a pleasant smile, that somehow made him feel worse. “You always want to be a nun?”

“My parents died when I was six. I was raised in a foster home run by the Church. When I was eighteen, I went to the monastery where they let me take my vows. I’ve known no other life and I haven’t wanted to.” The question was innocent enough, but the answer made a chill run down his spine and left the churning in his stomach to strengthen. 

He really hated nuns. 

“Okay, Sister, we need to you lie as still as possible. If you get scared, just let us know.” Chase slid into the seat next to Cameron, helping her set up the CT. She bumped shoulders with him giving him a small smile that he’d grown to love over the past six months.

Chase smiled back, almost startling when the Sister spoke, “As Jonah said from inside the whale, ‘When I had lost all hope, I turned my thoughts to the Lord.’” Chase inwardly scoffed, eyes drilling holes into the CT machine. He felt his skin prickle, almost as if it was too tight, his mind goes fuzzy.

And then it refocused. Chase sucked in a breath and looked back at the screen. It was just one case, not a lifetime. 

“At least she’s got God on her side.” Chase’s skin felt tighter, his stomach dropping. 

“I don’t believe in God.” Cameron made her beliefs known, and Chase had to respect that. Foreman’s look of surprise made him realize that was the wrong answer.

“You’re not even a little agnostic?” Chase wanted to chime in, tell them this wasn't appropriate for work. He couldn't speak, his tongue had turned to cotton, and his eyes stayed glued on the monitor.

“Is it supposed to smell funny?” The sister spoke again, Chase raised an eyebrow, but Foreman and Cameron turned to the tech. Chase didn’t know her name, maybe Kit, or Kate. He knew it started with a ‘K’

Kit/Kate shrugged, and Cameron gave her a hopeful look. “Someone ralphed in there this afternoon. We cleaned it up, but…” The Tech trailed off, leaving Chase to scrunch up his nose in disgust.

Cameron grimaced, “It’s normal, Sister. It’s just a few more minutes.” She paused for a second, double-checking the mic was off. “I believe in a higher order that’s in control of what happens, but not one anthropomorphic entity called “God” that’s concerned with the everyday workings of you and me.” 

“What else is there to control but the everyday workings of you and me?” Foreman replied. 

“It’s always about you, Foreman.” Chase fought the urge to sigh.

“What else are you talking about? The trees, the fish? Should they be the ones to think it’s all about them?” He had a point there. “What about you, Chase? Do you believe in God?” Chase froze when the conversation turned to him. He decided against oversharing with a colleague he’s known for a month and focused on the patient.

That was their job after all.

“I believe Sister Augustine has no vascular pathology, which means no Churg-Strauss.” It was effective in shifting the conversation which let Chase breathe a sigh of relief. It didn’t go unnoticed by Cameron.

“Which means House made a mistake.” Could Foreman lay off the guy for one fucking second? He comes to work for him and _all_ he does is disagree with him.

“No, not necessarily. It could be something else. Thyrotoxicosis or a carcinoid.”

"I don’t get you. You don’t believe in God, but you’re willing to put complete faith in one man?”

What the fuck did God have to do with this conversation?

“Please, the smell!” Sister Augustine cried. The team jumped up, running into the CT area. Chase winces at her kicking and screaming. 

Foreman turns to the other two, “Let’s get her out of there.” Augustine is panicking, crying, and screaming about the smell, she’s clawing and scratching like she’s stuck underground and needs to get out.

“I’m coming, Sister. I gotcha, I’m coming.”

“Please, please, the smell, I’m sick –”

“There’s no smell –”

“No, God, no –” She puts her hands up in prayer and reaches outward and suddenly, Chase realizes what’s happening. “Oh, it’s Jesus! It’s Jesus!” Chase let go of Augustine, rolling his eyes and stepping back. “He’s coming for me. He’s burning me with his touch!”

“Let’s get her on some Ativan.” The nurses scrambled, searching for the drug they needed. “Smells, religious visions are symptomatic of temporal lobe swelling. We don’t want her to –” The word seize went unspoken, because that’s exactly what the nun started doing.

“Oh!” Augustine cried, and Cameron’s eyes widened. 

“She’s seizing!”

“Help me get her on her side!” The three of them raced to turn her. 

Chase’s stomach coiled with the hot heavy feelings of guilt again. “Religious visions?”

Foreman sighed, with a nod. “Yeah. And next comes…” Foreman’s hand crept up to her leg. He lifted up the gown revealing an angry rash. The look Foreman and Chase shared said it all. 

Chase’s eyes glanced over to House, who seemed as nonchalant as ever. Chase wondered if House had ever been serious in his life. He floated through life like he was floating on cloud nine and everything was below him.

It was House’s world, they were just living in it.

Foreman was stiff as he always was. Straight to the point. “Patient tested positive for herpetic encephalitis.”

House was playing his games. “So what’s that tell us?”

Cameron was trying to please him in any way possible. Chase thought that if House told her to get on her knees and suck him off to keep her job she would. (And he would never, not when he has Chase to use like that) “Her immune system is severely compromised.”

“Ooh, I know! Prednisone compromises the immune system. Isn’t that the medicine you gave her for the thing she doesn’t have?” And there was Cuddy.

Chase didn’t understand Cuddy, she hated House more than anyone in the room. Including House, himself, and House was the most self-loathing narcissist Chase had ever known. His father, and himself, included. Why didn’t she just fire him? She never trusted his decisions even though he was right nine times out of ten. 

“Yeah, but…” House trailed off, making a fake gasp, “Hey. I’m thinking that’s a trick question.”

Cameron rolled her eyes, trying to take the attention off Cuddy, “Her immune system is severely compromised. Two doses of prednisone wouldn’t do that,” She explained softly. Cuddy didn’t look convinced.

When did she ever? Chase liked working with her, according to House she’s one of the main reasons he got the job _with_ House. But, she was irritating in the way that she gave House blind faith and no faith at the same time. There was a fine line between trusting and distrusting and she was a drunken fool toeing it. 

She also seemed to be in love with him, which Chase disliked for obvious reasons.

“Are you hanging your diagnosis on an adverb?” She said with a snide smirk. House sucked in a breath and then paused and Cuddy knew she had to brace herself. If three people could share a look, the team did. 

“In ten seconds I’m gonna announce that I gave her the wrong dose in the clinic.” 

Cuddy’s eyes widened, and so did Cameron's. “You’re gonna admit negligence?”

House gave her the smuggest smirk that he could muster. And Chase realized exactly what was happening. It was clear to him that Foreman knew too. They locked eyes and nodded in solidarity. “Unless you leave the room. If you stay you’ll have to testify.” He gave her an expectant look, but she didn’t budge. “Five, four, three, two…. So, there I was in the clinic, drunk. I open the drawer, close my eyes, take the first syringe I can find –” The team shared a smile, Chase’s smile widening into a grin. “So, what are the options for compromised immune systems?” 

Chase finally piped up, “Mixed connective tissue disease. It’d explain why she was feeling better on the prednisone.” 

Foreman shook his head, “Sure, she was feeling better right up to the moment it almost killed her.” 

House, ever so happy with proving Foreman wrong, (and solving the puzzle), defended Chase, “On the other hand, it explains the symptoms. Swollen hands, pulmonary problems, cardiac problems – it all fits.” Chase marked that as a win, a stupid feeling of self-assurance clouding the guilt he’s felt. 

Foreman gave House a pointed look, knowing that he could unravel House’s whole diagnosis. “Except her ANA was normal.”

House shrugged, “So redraw the blood.”

“But the treatment is corticosteroids, prednisone, and we can’t go there because of the encephalitis.”

“Then we’ll treat it with something that modulates the immune system but doesn’t suppress it. Hyperbaric oxygen chamber.”

“There’s no protocol for putting a patient in a high-pressure oxygen room to treat autoimmune problems.”

In the small time that Foreman was there, Cameron and Chase had learned to avoid House and Foreman’s rows. Electing to stay quiet instead of setting them off track, they would get to an agreement eventually. If not, House would just say that he was Foreman’s boss and Foreman’s house of cards would fall. 

House pointed at Foreman, before ignoring him completely. “Oh, you people. Always with the protocols.” There was a pause before he turned to the team. “Prep the nun and discontinue the prednisone.” Chase and Cameron nodded before leaving, they noticed Foreman staying, and then not meeting up with them.

What were they supposed to do? Care? 

Cameron, as bubbly and sweet as ever grinned at Chase as they left the room. For some sickening reason, it made Chase feel better. “What’re you doing for the holiday?” She asked, obviously trying to alleviate some tension.

Chase shrugged, “I don’t know, go to whatever bar is open and see if there are any lonely enough girls.” _Lie_. The truth is he was going to House’s, they didn’t get the other gifts, but they did decide to spend the night in bed eating chocolate and having sex. “What about you?”

“My parents are coming to visit! I’m hoping we finish this fast so I can spend a couple of days with them.” Chase couldn’t remember the last time, if it ever happened, that he wanted to spend time with his parents, much less have his father come to visit. 

“That’s nice,” Chase said with a false smile and turned his head to the front. Cameron cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brows. Chase pretended to ignore the perplexed look. 

Cameron’s face shifted once more, “It is, isn’t it?” 

Chase helped Cameron wheel Augustineinto the Hyperbaric Chamber. They had been setting up when he decided to try his best at giving the nun an uneasy smile. “The pressure will force the oxygen into your system and saturate your blood. It will enhance white cell activity and reduce the inflammation.”

“And that will help with this mixed connective tissue disease?” She seemed scared, and Chase almost felt bad. His empathy for others was severely stunted as a child, he understood he _should_ feel bad for the nun, and he wanted to, but he couldn't.

Chase tried to keep it as professional as possible, he nodded softly. “We’ll be doing about ten treatments and then we’ll reevaluate.”

“The last treatment with prednisone caused the seizures, right? How confident is Dr. House about this?” Chase stiffened, House wasn’t sure, truly. He never was one-hundred percent sure, Cameron saw him floundering and took over as smoothly as possible.

Cameron gave Augustine her warmest smile that just seemed to come easy for her. Cameron was like that, he supposed. Warm smiles and kind eyes, that made him feel better when he was upset. She was a true sweetheart, one you could feel in your soul. She was still strong and held her ground when House tried to stomp on all her morals. He admired that about her. He admired Cameron. 

“That you reacted so strongly to the prednisone let us know that you had an underlying problem with your immune system.” 

Augustine, ever the optimist. Chase wanted to envy it, he could honestly. She used religion as a crutch, similar to Chase nine years before. He felt the burning of guilt creeping back into his mind and body, curling around him and enveloping in a warped sense of reality. He wanted to gag. “I guess it was a blessing…” Augustine gave a sad smile, “of sorts.”

They exited the Hyperbaric chamber, setting up Augustine’s treatments and letting her lie there. Chase’s red hot guilt and awful thoughts clouded his mind, leaving him shaky and absent. Next to him, Cameron waved her hand in front of his face, she was so close.

“Are you okay?” She asked Chase looked over at her. He knew he wasn’t himself, he didn’t think it was that obvious. “You look sick.”

Chase’s mind stuttered, going back over his thoughts before continuing. “I just haven’t eaten today.” It was one of the many lies he had told today and it didn’t help with the squeezing pain he felt. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” If Chase wasn't so nauseous, he would’ve felt touched.

He nodded stiffly. “Cameron, I’m fine. I’m going to go get lunch, I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Cameron normally would have objected but Chase needed this break.

He didn’t get lunch, he ran to the bathroom and threw up acid that stung his throat and left tears in his eyes. Maybe that was what happened to sinners who flew too close to the sun. 

Cameron and Chase shared a look after Chase gave Augustine some of her tea. This wasn’t working well, and they needed to get her better fast.

It wasn’t a surprise to be paged to Cuddy’s office, Cameron and Chase hustled there only to be met with Foreman and Cuddy staring right at them. Foreman's eyes directly hit Chase’s wide ones.

The baby blues hit the stony glare and clashed as if they were fighting. “You didn’t,” Chase mouthed. Foreman shrugged, and Cuddy commanded their attention.

“We’re going to treat the symptoms,” She said finally. Cameron and Chase locked eyes, seemingly on the same page. Foreman stayed with his eyes forward, gaze robotic as ever.

Cameron cocked her head to the side, “Not the underlying condition?”

Cuddy shut her down with a glare so hard that Cameron stiffened. “There is no underlying condition,” She said cooly, she seemed to doubt House an awful lot for someone who was so obsessed with him. “What’s her status?” 

Chase bit the bullet, swallowing his envy, and guilt and spoke. “The sister’s breathing is labored.”

Cuddy brushed it off with a wave of her hand, quick with an explanation. “Pneumonitis from the hyperbaric chamber.” She paused, “Put her on forty percent oxygen until her 0-2 stats increase.”

Chase furrowed his eyebrows, skeptical that it wasn’t _just_ an underlying condition. “BUN and creatinine’s rising, ALT and AST twice the normal range,” he reminded his boss. 

“Could be from the hypertensive episode. Let’s follow them with labs.” 

“She still has the rash and the joint pain she came in with,” Foreman said finally. 

“Order a non-steroidal anti-inflammatory.” Chase wanted to object, but shrunk back as Cameron spoke up.

“When we were looking at the differential diagnosis with Dr. House, we were considering –” House was their actual boss, they _should_ be speaking with House. They should be diagnosing with House. 

“I don’t need to hear what Dr. House was considering!” She did actually, she wasn’t a diagnostician, and she didn’t know the case, as well as the four of them, did. “All of this woman’s symptoms can be traced to Dr. House’s considerations. Okay. Let’s just get this patient healthy. I want her going out the front door, and not the back.”

Oh, Chase couldn’t wait to complain to House.

The three left the office as quickly as possible and met in the hallway, it didn’t stop Chase from glaring at Foreman to let Cuddy hijack their case.

Foreman held his hands up, “Hey, it’s not like I betrayed him. Cuddy would have found out about the hyperbaric treatments eventually.”

Cameron placed a calming hand on Chase’s shoulder, before turning to Foreman, her tone and face soft. But her eyes and words held months of knowledge that Foreman didn’t know yet. “You did what you felt you had to.”

Chase winded up back with the sister, feeling worse every time he saw her. He saw his past in his eyes, his friends from Catholic school that he stopped talking to. Baby Cecilia as he left her with his grandma when he went off to Britain. He came back a year later to finish college and complete medical school. And then he went through his residency, and now he was at House’s, and Cecilia would be fifteen years old now. “These pills will help your kidneys function a little better, Sister.” She grabbed the pills and swallowed them with a cup of water. “Get your wrist?” His fingers found her pulse quickly.

“What’s that?”

Chase looked down, before writing it down. “One-Oh-Four.”

Augustine looked worried, “Is that good?”

Chase lied through gritted teeth. “It’s fine.”

Augustine gave him a weak smile, and it didn’t make him feel any better. “You’re a lousy liar, Dr. Chase.”

Chase’s beeper went off, and he looked down checking the message, “Call Mom!” it read. A chill went down his spine, he felt cruel and worse than he ever had before. His mother. He supposed he didn’t love her, never did, so why should he feel bad now.

Chase swallowed,” I have to get this. Excuse me.” She smiled at him and let him go. Somehow, he almost wished he stayed. 

Chase huffed as he entered House’s office, the older man playing with his yo-yo and looking like he should be doing his job. Chase’s eyebrows furrowed, the most emotionless face he could muster plastered on, keeping his mask. “My mother’s been dead for 10 years.”

House’s twinkle in his eye blazed, something Chase normally admired felt like a taunt. “But she’s always with you in spirit.” Chase rolled his eyes, that wasn’t true. He couldn’t give less of a shit about his mother. _Evil,_ a little voice in the back of his mind supplied, _What happened to pitying all souls?_

“What do you know about the nun?”

Chase raised an eyebrow, “Which one?” He asked dumbly. 

House grinned. “The cute one. I think she likes me.” _I like you_ , Chase’s brain supplied the response and he inwardly glared at himself. House’s playful smirk dropped. “The sick one, obviously.”

Chase shrugged, “Her parents died when she was a child and she’s been with the Church ever since.”

House nodded, eyebrows raising. A soft hum came from him. “What’s she lying about?”

“Why do you say that?”

House gave him a disappointed look, he truly did expect more from Chase. “I always say that. And the old nun says the sick nun is a big fat nun liar. You know nuns, what do you think?”

Chase froze, “I don’t _know_ nuns,” he insisted the stupid lie for the nth time that day. 

House gave him a look that made Chase go cold. House knew far more about him than most people did. House knew about his desire to be better than his father, the resentment towards his mother, the _disappointment in himself_. “You hate nuns. You can’t hate someone if you don’t know them.”

Chase gave House an incredulous look at the stupid, blanket statement. “Know any Nazis? Maybe I hate them on principle.”

House stood up, walking closer to Chase until he was standing right in front of him. Chase’s head looking up, House’s breathing ghosting his ear. “I have a theory on what makes good boys “good”. It’s not because of some moral imperative.” House’s voice was quiet and commanding, the way it was when they were alone that brought Chase to his knees. “Good boys have the fear of God put into them.” Chase was weak, his legs shaking, arousal mixing with guilt, creating a cocktail that made him sick and intoxicated at the same time. House dropped the dominant voice, a cheery voice that made the arousal leave and the guilt stay. “Catholic Church specializes in that kind of training, to make good boys afraid of divine retribution so they will do what their daddies tell them, like, for example, going into medical school when it’s the last thing they want to do. What do you think?” The unspoken, ‘ _Are you a good boy?’_ Hung in the air like a heavyweight, waiting to be dropped. 

Chase grimaced, House had him down. He’d done two years of college before going to seminary, then he completed his last years, and went off to Med School because it was his last choice. He ran out of options and the only way to surpass his father was becoming the one thing he hated. 

Chase sucked in a breath. “I think–” he paused for dramatic effect, “– _if_ she did have a secret, her boss would know.” He left as quickly as possible, ignoring everything trying to pull him underwater. 

Cuddy ended up paging them anyway, and because they were obedient little ducklings, they went behind House’s back and went straight to Cuddy.

Cuddy looked unsure of herself for once, jittery yet still releasing an aura of confidence that made anyone in her presence slightly scared and slightly hot under the collar. “Any change with medication?”

Chase nodded, “Yeah, she’s getting worse.” Maybe, they should’ve listened to House instead of fucking with the treatments _he_ prescribed. “Lung function’s deteriorating, BUN, and creatinine are continuing to rise. She’s starting to run a fever and the rash is spreading. At this rate, she’s not going to make Christmas.” He felt almost awkward saying that she wasn’t going to live, but it was true. She wasn’t. He looked to Cameron for help as it was clear that Foreman was Cuddy’s new spy. 

Cameron answered his wishes and gave 

Cuddy a sheepish smile. “Maybe House was right,” She started. Cuddy gave her a sharp glare, “Maybe there is an underlying condition that explains the symptoms, something we haven’t considered.”

“Like what?” Cuddy snapped. Cameron recoiled before biting back with just as fierce a tone. 

“It could be a metabolic disorder.”

“Specifically?”

“Mitogenetic.”

“Specifically?”

Cameron couldn’t answer the specifics, they weren't allowed to work it through with Cuddy. They couldn’t bounce ideas off of each other. House’s ideas were radical, illegal, and borderline lethal. At least they got the job done. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying you think House is right.” 

“Might be right.”

It was a pissing match that neither could win. He and Foreman were stuck in the middle helpless. They connected eyes and slunk back into themselves watching as Cameron stood guard. 

Cuddy threw up her hands, “Of course he might be right!” She raised her voice, Cameron stayed stony-faced and strong. “It might be the Hand of God at work. Don’t say it’s something else unless you’ve got something concrete to offer,” She scolded. They didn’t know the presence of someone else in the room until the teabag flew across Cuddy’s desk. “What’s this, hemlock?”

House, who had entered the room near silently, huffed, “'I’m going to do you the biggest favor one doctor can do another. I’m gonna stop you from killing your patient.'” Chase guessed he missed something because Cuddy’s eyes narrowed as she leaned forwards. “It’s figwort tea. Great for that little pick-me-up we’re all looking for in the morning. Opens the lungs, increases the blood pressure, stimulates the heart. Unfortunately, if you then get injected with even 0.1 cc of epinephrine: instant cardiac arrest. Still, what the hell, it tastes great.” House seemed proud of himself. Cuddy didn’t seem convinced. 

Cuddy raised a finger in disagreement, “Sister Augustine –”

“Has been drinking it religiously, so to speak.” Chase couldn’t help but chuckle at the little joke, causing a sharp elbow from Foreman. 

Foreman was the first one to speak, “Take the cardiac arrest out of the equation…” He trailed off letting House finish. 

House, “All the rest of the symptoms can be explained by a severe long-term allergic reaction.”

“That’s what Cameron said in the beginning,” Foreman pointed to the woman next to him who stayed still.

House nodded. “Yes, she did. Well done.” It was the closest to a comment most of them had gotten. Cameron smiled at House. Chase didn’t trust it. “But your unwillingness to stick by your diagnosis almost killed this woman.” Cameron stopped smiling immediately. “Take a lesson from Foreman: stand up for what you believe. Okay, let’s go figure out how to save a nun.” House left as quickly and silently as he came. 

Chase sighed. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” 

The ducklings rushed to catch up to House as they walked to the diagnostic office. “Because it’s been untreated for so long, it’s gone from a simple watery eyes, scratchy throat allergy to a whopping I’m-gonna-kick-your-ass allergy, compromising her immune system, diminishing her ability to heal and breaking down her organs systems. So, what’s the source?” 

Chase shrugged, remembering what she came in for, “The dish soap,” He tried. 

House shook his head, effectively shooting down Chase’s idea. “No, symptoms persisted days after the dishwashing episode. It’s gotta be something she’s been exposed to here in the hospital as well as the monastery.” 

“Well, what about the tea? It caused her arrhythmia,” That would be too easy. Not to mention she was drinking it for so long without symptoms before. 

House didn’t hate it, “Could be, but it’s not definitive.”

Chase tried again, trying to redeem himself. “We’ll skin test for allergens.”

The immunologist shook her head. “Not yet, she’s too reactive. She’d test positive for everything.” Chase probably should’ve thought about that. “We need to stabilize her, isolate her from all possible allergens. Give her system a rest.”

Chase nodded, “Get her in a clean room.” 

“Okay. And we’ll gradually introduce allergens and see how she responds. When she reacts to something we’ll know that’s what's killing her.”

The three of them were forced to help Augustine in the clean room. Chase didn’t like being around her very much, it made him uncomfortable and long to be part of the religion he’d left so long ago. 

Foreman gave Augustine a soft smile, she looked anxious, alone. Chase for the first time the whole case, finally felt pity for her. “There you go. No television, no books.”

“Not even my Bible?” 

Foreman’s eyes conveyed sorrow, he obviously felt bad, his voice showed it too. “I’m afraid not. This room has filtered air, filtered water…” He trailed off for a second, trying to lift her mood. “You even have silk sheets. Very decadent and hypoallergenic. You should be feeling better here.” Foreman and Cameron made their leave, Chase hung back to answer any last-minute questions. 

“We’ll be back to check on you in a little while,” He informed her. There was a soft level of comfort in talking to her that he hadn’t felt, but it was drowned out by long-repressed feelings of guilt. Drowning him and taking him over like a siren to a sailor. 

Augustine looked at him with a helpless look, frail and weak, she was sick, and she might’ve been dying. “Can the other sisters come in and pray with me?”

Chase swallowed, the feelings of guilt getting worse as he had to tell her no. “It’d be better if you don’t have any visitors. Once we isolate what’s causing your allergy, then we can be a little more lax.” Augustine turned away from the window, Chase could hear her crying. He’d gotten used to crying, the crying of patients, and his sister. He’d been so numb to negative feelings he didn’t know what it was like to help someone _feel_ better anymore. Sure, he was a doctor, he made people better, he helped them live and he saved lives and that made him feel amazing! But, it had been so long since he comforted someone, and had helped them feel the way he used to. Something inside him snapped, he needed to alleviate the guilt he’d felt since this case started. He swallowed his pride, and broke down the walls, “I can pray with you.”

Augustine was still teary-eyed, she turned to him in confidence, “I want to die. Why has He left me?” He knew what that felt like, knew what it was like to feel like God abandoned you in your worst times. He’d felt like her as a teenager, the wanting to die wasn’t as prevalent until college, when it really dawned on him that he was _truly_ alone. 

But he remembered the feeling of numbness, the thought that if he died tomorrow he wouldn’t care. He didn’t need to live, and then he went to seminary, poured himself into religion, it became his coping mechanism, and drowned all other thoughts out. And then he had his breaking point. He wouldn’t let it happen again. 

Chase softened. “I was in seminary school,” He started as if that explained everything. Maybe it did. “They asked us once what our favorite passage was. I chose 1 Peter 1:7. “These trials only test your faith to see whether or not it is strong and pure. Your faith is being tested as fire tests gold and purifies it.'” 

Augustine gave him another weak smile through her tears, and Chase felt a tiny bit better. “'And your faith is far more precious to the Lord than pure gold; so if your faith remains strong after being tested, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day of His return.'” 

Chase nodded, pride bleeding out of him in a way he hadn’t felt since he was seventeen. “He hasn’t left you. The only thing in the way of your knowing if he’s left you is your fear. You have a choice: faith or fear. That’s the test.” Was he failing the test now? The guilt had barely alleviated. 

He remembered the times in confessionals as a kid, when he told the priest his mind would wander to thoughts about men and women, instead of just women like he was taught. The priest shot him down, telling him to focus on other things, and Chase had. He focused on his mother, and Cecilia, and school. He skipped grade, after grade until he graduated at sixteen, instead of eighteen. He went to college and seminary and then he failed. He gave into fear. 

He wasn’t going to do that. This time, he would give into faith. 

“Do you think faith doesn’t mean I won’t die?” 

Chase sighed, shrugging and deciding to tell the truth, “It will affect how you experience your death, and therefore your life. It’s up to you.” He gave her a soft smile. 

Augustine glanced at him, before doing what Chase thought was a cock of the head, “Why did you leave seminary school?” 

Chase didn’t want to tell her the truth about that. In all honesty, he was trying to put his acting straight past behind him. “A test.” He said simply. “You passed. I didn’t.”

He thought back to House, and back to his faith. His relationship with House was something that could bring him fear, he often worried about what House was. Faith was something that was always going to be there for him. 

Fear or Faith.

That was the test. And he wasn’t going to fail it this time. 

Chase thought she would be okay, and then She wasn’t, and then she was gasping and freaking out and Chase's eyes widened. He jumped up, running towards the window and banging on it as hard as he could, gaining their attention. “Need some help in here!” He called. Cameron and Foreman began to suit up, but damn it it was slow and he wasn’t letting her die. “Screw the procedure, she’s in anaphylactic shock!”

He could barely hear Foreman’s voice over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears, “No way, she’s in the damn clean room.” Chase groaned, hitting the window again.

“You kidding me? Get in here!” He yelled, and this time they ran in as fast as they can. Chase took control, “0.1 cc of epi.” 

Foreman handed it to him allowing him to inject her. “Gonna have to intubate.” 

Cameron nodded in response. “I got it,” She told them, she grabbed the tube and intubated her, they looked to her for the signal. “I’m in.” They began pumping air into her lungs, and Chase for the first time, prayed that she was okay. “Breathing’s stabilized”.

Chase shook his head, distraught. “It’s a clean room!”

Chase didn’t know what was happening when he entered the room, he saw House with a Christmas present and Cameron next to his desk, he nodded a hello to Cameron, before turning to his boss. “Sister Augustine’s been extubated.”

“Good.” 

Chase let out a breath, before continuing his briefing. “She’s requested to check out against medical advice. She wants to go back to the monastery.” House's eyes narrowed and Chase swallowed, he didn’t need House being mad at him. House was already going to be pissed at him later.

House hmphed to himself, “Well, talk her out of it.”

Chase gave an uncomfortable winced, and chewed on his lip. “I think I may have talked her into it.” And he felt House’s glare on him. “I’m sorry, she asked me to pray with her, I tried to comfort her!”

“You comforted her by talking her into leaving the hospital?!” He raised his voice slightly, and Chase slunk back. House turned to Cameron, “Go find Foreman.” She nodded quickly and left the room. “I thought you weren’t religious anymore,” House phrased the statement as a question.

Chase stiffened. “I’ve had some inspiration.” He admitted. House glared at him, harsher than usual.

“I’m going to go clean up your mess.” He left the room, the slam of the door hurt him worse than he wanted it too.

Chase left the office after adjusting himself only to see Cameron. Her look made him swallow, and glare as hard as possible. “Shut the fuck up.” 

House still seemed angry at him when he met up with them in the hallway. He glanced at all of them, eyes only narrowing once he got to Chase. 

“We looked everywhere for an allergen that could be causing this reaction except one place: inside her.” 

Foreman looked puzzled, head cocked to the side. “On her medical history she didn’t mention any surgery.”

House shook his head, “She had one.”

Cameron pursed her lips, “Can we get her records? What hospital was it at?”

House glanced at her, “She didn’t have it at a hospital. Order a full body scan.”

It was Chase’s turn to look puzzled, House _hated_ full-body scans. “What if she refuses?” He asked. 

House gave him a smirk, and Chase felt a chill run down his spine. “Tell her I’m looking for a miracle.” 

They had gone to the clean room and told her. She’d tried to get them to go away and somehow, House’s looking for a miracle thing worked. 

When the ducklings actually got to the imaging center it seemed like yet another dead end. Foreman sighed, “No piercings, no fillings, no surgical pins in the arm, no implants…” He trailed off.

Chase looked over the screens again, “It’s clean as a whistle. What’s House looking for?” 

Foreman shook his head, then squinted at the screen. “What is that?”

Chase squinted too before seeing the small smudge on the screen, “Don’t know.”

Foreman nudged Chase, “Lock on it. Get a 3D representation.” Chase switched the image, showing a piece of metal in the form of a cross.

Cameron’s eyes widened, “Oh my God!”

They took it to House, putting on the images. “We found something,” Cameron told him, House looked at the images on the screen.

“The copper cross, a form of birth control pulled off the market in the 80s,” He explained to the group. So that’s what he saw. It was a good catch. Then again, that’s what House is famous for.

Foreman looked at him, “So, she’s allergic to copper.” 

House made a face, before nodding, “Rare, but it happens.” 

Chase was confused, if she had the IUD why wouldn’t she tell her doctors, who know everything. He scrunched his nose, “Wouldn’t she know she had an IUD?”

House shook his head, “She had an abortion. IUD must have been left in, embedded in the endometrial tissue where it couldn’t be detected.” That made way more sense than Chase was willing to admit, he gave a half-smile. 

“So, all we have to do is remove the IUD and she’ll be cured.” 

“Exactly,” House hummed. “Are you going to go tell her, or are you going to stare at me?” Chase gave House one last eye roll before he left the room.

Chase entered Augustine’s room. For the first time, his stomach didn’t want to revolt. “I have good news.” He told her, his voice lighter with good mood. 

She looked up at him, half asleep., “What’s the news?” She asked him. Chase sat at her bedside, grasping her hand. 

“Well, that miracle that Dr. House was looking for? He found it.” Her face lit up, Chase couldn’t help but feel good about himself. “You have a copper cross, an old form of IUD inside you, from when you were a teenager.” He held out the x-rays for her to view. “You’re allergic to copper, so all we have to do is remove the IUD and the symptoms should subside.”

Augustine grinned, even in her weak state it felt good to see her genuinely smile. “I got this IUD when I was fifteen. It’s been more than twenty years.” 

Chase nodded at that, “Prolonged exposure to an allergen with minimal symptoms. But at some point, all it takes is one last contact to cause a full-blown reaction. It’s like a balloon filled with air. One last breath, it explodes.”

Augustine’s eyes widened, “The first time I got the rash was when I was washing the copper cookware.”

“And all your subsequent symptoms came from ingesting food prepared in it.”

Augustine nodded, “You did say that Dr. House found his miracle.”

Chase let out a small laugh. “I doubt he’ll interpret it that way.”

“You told me your favorite passage. Would you like to hear mine?” Chase nodded, he was curious. The looming guilt came back into his mind when he thought about House. Maybe that was his problem. Homosexuality had always been looked down upon in the Catholic religion. He couldn’t stop working with House. But he could stop sleeping with him. He knew his test was Fear vs. Faith. And right now, faith was winning. “'Celebrate and be glad, for your brother was dead and is alive again.'”

Chase gave a fond smile, “The prodigal son.”

Augustine looked at him with a look that gave him nothing but comfort. “He’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”

“We’ll schedule your surgery for tomorrow.”

Chase knew what could bring him one step forward to being ready. 

Chase had wound up at the clinic desk, nausea coming and going in waves. His mouth was dry and his heart was beating fast and he was sure that he would wind up chickening out. But he couldn’t. Nearly ten years later and he was just making up for his mistake. The guilt in his stomach was hard as a rock, and his mind was reeling. 

“Hey,” He hummed, House looked up at him, “Can I talk to you? Alone.” House nodded and looked to Wilson. Wilson cocked his head to the side before he began to leave. 

“Merry Christmas, Chase,” Wilson said to him. He waved as he left. 

“You too, Wilson.” 

“What’s wrong, Robbie?” House asked, he wasn’t sincere and Chase knew. His nose twitched. “Wombat got your tongue?”

He turned to House once Wilson was out of sight, “We need to stop sleeping together,” Chase said quietly. House’s look changed from happy and carefree to a mixture of annoyance and happiness.

Chase had to admit to feeling almost hurt that House wasn’t as upset as Chase felt inside. Chase knew he had to get back into his religion, his one safe space. House wasn’t his safe space, and the thought that House was, was laughable. House wasn’t anything to him. 

“I see Catholic Guilt finally took you under.” Chase glared at him as harshly as possible. He wasn’t wrong, the guilt still holds him hostage, but he couldn’t admit that. “Surprised you made it this long, nearly five months? A shock.” 

“I’m not feeling Catholic Guilt!” He hissed. Chase’s walls came up, the opposite of what he was used to doing with House. “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s your fault?” He asked, or more accused. “You’re always such an ass it’s no wonder your relationships all fail. You don’t care about anyone except yourself and you never will. You hide behind all your sarcasm and bully people down to their rock bottom, but underneath all that you’re scared and you can’t handle that!” Chase was whisper yelling now, it was a miracle that no one else heard. “Grow up, House, no one wants to deal with your bullshit. Merry Christmas.” 

He didn’t miss the wave of hurt over House’s face, and the guilt in his stomach tightened. But, he knew he would be okay. It would dissipate eventually. 

Chase decided to go to the hospital Chapel service that Christmas. He wanted to make himself feel better and honestly, it did. He and Cecilia used to go to Chapel together. Every Sunday, he would dress them both in their best and they would spend the day together. She was young so it didn’t matter.

He paused before going in. He picked up his phone and his eyes were drawn to House’s number immediately. He ignored it, going through the phone until he saw his grandmother’s home number, he typed it in and let out a breath at the ringing. 

“ _Hello_?” His grandmother's voice rang out, the familiar tone of her accent making him melt in a way he hadn’t in years. 

“Hi, Nan.” 

“ _Oh! Robert, dear, How are you?_ ” Chase sighed the comfort of his grandmother’s voice something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me. How are you?” 

_“I’m good, darling. I’ve missed you in the last years.”_ He had missed her too. He hadn’t been home since he was sixteen and left for college, and then seminary.

“I know, I’ve been busy with school and now, I’m working. I was thinking about you, Nan. How Cecilia? Is she home.” 

“ _You take after your father you know.”_ Chase inwardly winced, he hoped he didn’t take after that bastard. _“Oh, no, dear. Cecilia isn’t home, she’s in rehab. I’m visiting her in the morning_.” His grandmother sounded so genuinely sad, Chase’s felt it through the phone.

“She takes after Mum?” 

“ _I’m afraid so.”_ He shook his head. Perhaps that was his fault. He shouldn’t have left her. He heard beeping over the phone and a cry from his grandmother. “ _I’m sorry, Robert, I’m about to have dinner. I have to go. I love you, dear, Merry Christmas.”_

“Merry Christmas, Nan, I love you too.” He heard the line cut off. The guilt in his stomach tightened. He looked into the window of the Chapel. He saw Augustine and the other sisters and a sad smile spread across his face. 

He went to open the door when he stopped. His stomach tightened again, and he looked back in the window, before looking out in the hospital. 

Fear or Faith.

Fear won out, and now, he needed a drink. 


	2. and i need it more than i let on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> House was fine without Chase. Seriously, he was. 
> 
> Until he wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey my lovelies. i forgot abt this fic, sorry it's been 3 months lmao. i got back into supernatural and all of the sudden that's the only thing i can think abt so, sorry gang! but here's the second chapter of this fic. i hope y'all enjoy, and i hope you've had a good holiday(s)!! happy new year! thank you so much for reading, enjoy this mess.
> 
> xoxo, ollie

House was alone when he woke up that morning. He always was alone. Except for when he was with Chase. But Chase was gone now, he didn’t have that small comfort anymore. That used to be his constant. After Wilson, Chase seemed to be there at the end of the night. He was a sweet constant, different from Wilson. 

Wilson was there to be his mirror in some way. He pulled pranks and talked about bullshit. They were stupid and best friends. Chase was different, he thought about Chase differently. Different than he’d ever thought about someone before.

He and Wilson had dated for a year after Stacy, but then Wilson met Mrs. Wilson III and House and he had broken up. It was never a serious relationship, though he supposed he and Chase weren’t serious either. He and Wilson went farther than sex, he and Chase did not. 

Stacy was the first person he had lived with after college. He loved her as much as any gay man could love a woman. In some way, he loved her with his whole heart but he couldn’t stay with her. It wouldn't work. He wouldn’t have been able to commit. In some sick way, he supposed he was glad Stacy had left. Maybe, he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his life a lie. 

A blind hand reached out, searching for his bottle of Vicodin. It was a seasoned hand, used to the exact position on the bedside table. Muscle memory. Ironic considering he needed the pills for a lack of muscle. He found the bottle quickly, dumping the last two pills out and cursing. Now he needed to go in early. 

He hated going in early. He used to do it with Chase. He would get his Vicodin and they would fuck in a clinic room. It was weird to say he missed Chase. Because he didn’t. He didn’t miss the wandering hands that initiated the sex far too much. The need to cuddle that House almost found himself longing for at night. The god-awful accent got less and less coherent as Chase got more and more aroused. He didn't miss the floppy hair that was so soft to run his fingers through and listen to Chase’s soft sighs as he fell asleep in House’s lap for the third time this week.

Maybe he did miss Chase. Or, at least, he missed having someone who wasn’t married and didn’t cost three-hundred dollars to fuck. 

Chase’s words stuck in his head,  _ you’re scared and you can’t handle that!  _ He supposed that Chase was right. He was right about everything in that argument. It was his fault. House’s perfectly sculpted façade, made from only the worst stone and the daintiest gold was cracking and shattering with every breath he took. 

The coping mechanism he’d developed as a child to be as cold and calculating as his father. The brash thoughts and harsh actions. Impulsive and abrasive. As a teenager, he was the perfect student, plagued by the thoughts of attractive boys walking by his locker. It was 1972 when he was thirteen and he realized. He was twenty-two when it was 1981 and AIDS spread like wildfire. He was fresh out of college and going off to med-school and all he could worry about was whether or not the guy he had sex with the week before was clean.

So, he ignored it. He pushed it down, repressing it, and then he met Lisa Cuddy, just before he was kicked out of John Hopkins. They spent one night together before House fucked off to some other school in the country. He repressed it more and more and more. Until he forgot it. Although, he knew he couldn't actually forget it. There would always be wandering eyes and sick thoughts. 

When he met Stacy, picture-perfect Stacy, with her dark brown hair and glistening eyes. He thought, maybe, just maybe, he could stay with her. He could get through his life with her. But, four years before he met Stacy he met James Wilson and he didn’t leave his mind until then. 

When Stacy had left him along with the accident, he knew he needed to change. He was in constant pain and for once he was even worse than before. He had Wilson. He supposed Wilson would always be there. Always supporting him even when he didn't deserve it. 

When he and Wilson had started dating, even though it was only for a year. House had frozen. He’d never been out before. He didn’t want to be out. Wilson didn’t push him. He was perfectly content to be secret. Still, it felt wrong to drag Wilson along for the ride. Wilson was still his constant but now he had drugs too.

He fell back into familiar habits, overcompensating. It could be seen as a god-complex, but it was his way to survive. The way he poured over medical books and physics textbooks trying to keep himself afloat. He still did that. He still needed to prove his worth to anyone who saw him as less than. It started with his father after a couple of smacks and a couple of ice baths left him shaking and sick. It continued when he was older and he had to repress his sexuality, this time coming out in obscene jokes and gaudy comments. Finally, it came out at his job. He had to struggle  _ just  _ to be seen as equal. He was in constant pain and now addicted to drugs. He knew that. Everyone  _ around  _ him knew that. But it was his thing,  _ his  _ business. He didn’t need someone trying to knock him down a peg when he needed to build himself up to survive.

He thought about late nights alone when his fingers danced across the barrel of a gun, or his mind when a little fuzzy and all he could focus on was the number of pills in a Vicodin bottle. He  _ knew  _ that one day, it would all be over, he would snap and fuck up. He stared at the two Vicodin pills in his hand, dry-swallowed them, and got out of bed. 

House refused to drink his coffee black because black coffee tastes how House would assume a bubo from the bubonic plague would taste. Granted he’s never had a bubo from the plague, but it would definitely taste like plain black coffee. He poured himself a cup, using it to wash down the last two Vicodin pills.

He had left for work after showering, driving in his car down the roads of New Jersey. It wasn’t anything special, House had grown up moving around and had seen the world before he was eighteen. For some reason, he hated it. Most kids would envy his lifestyle, the exploring, the learning, over eighteen years he had been to twenty-one different parts of the world. He hated each one more and more than the last.

_ His leg hur _ t, he knew the only reason why he stayed at Princeton Plainsboro was that it was the only place that could let him practice medicine and ignore the legalities of his ways. The memories of working here with Stacy were always bittersweet. 

He ignored the glances and the waves he got from the other people in the hospital as he hobbled inside, instead directly bringing himself to the pharmacy. “Dr. Greg House, Dr. James Wilson put in a prescription.” He stated. 

The poor man working behind the pharmacy scrambled looking for the Vicodin. House was well known around the hospital. Getting in the way of him and Vicodin was a stupid, juvenile mistake, major pity for the sorry souls who deal with him. 

“I’m sorry, Doctor. We don’t have your Vicodin.” House’s eyes narrowed in on the pharmacist standing in front of him. House didn’t speak, choosing to stare down the helpless man like a lion hunting its prey.

He glared, teeth bared for less than a second, the pharmacist swallowed. House’s bite was far worse than his bark. “Where are they then?” He hissed. “Did they get up and walk away?”

“We were supposed to get a new shipment today, Doctor.” The pharmacist’s voice wavered. He didn’t speak further. House continued staring down the pharmacist, he shook as he stared back.

“Well, call shipping and see why my damn pills aren’t here,” House yelled, people looked over and House stared them down too. “Is everyone in this fucking pharmacy a moron or just you?” 

House didn’t have empathy, apparently, trauma made him special like that. It allowed him to demean someone at the drop of the hat and manipulate minds into putty at his disposal. Maybe, if he was a fully functioning adult, he’d be able to care about how his words affected others. 

To House, consequences were temporary. Something worse always came along and House was removed from the hole. He guessed it could be luck, although he didn’t believe much in luck.

He didn’t get his Vicodin, because Cuddy made a bet, and House in all his stubborn glory could never pass up a bet. He missed the weight of a Vicodin bottle in his hands. Missed the orange tint and the way his pain died the way his muscle had.

He missed being numb. He couldn’t be numb this week because he was focusing on Vicodin and loneliness. He remembered going to the corner store by his apartment, his eyes lingering on a box of cigarettes. He hadn’t had them since he was a teenager and now he was a detoxing misanthrope who missed having his employee as a piece of ass.

He looked up at the cashier, his voice level and gruff, “I’ll take two Lucky Strikes,” The cashier doesn’t raise an eyebrow just takes the shitty booze, the porno mags, and the two Lucky Strikes and House are on his way.

It took him three days to make it through one pack of Lucky Strikes. He hated every second the acid entered his lungs but, God, it’s better than feeling the pain of a dead muscle and dead feelings. 

It took him four days to start puking, and he nearly broke when Foreman left the bottle on his desk. He couldn’t stop thinking about Chase and the way he used to send him smiles when they were watching movies, used to buy him alcohol and play drinking games. He couldn’t stop thinking about the wretched cats and their horrible meowing. 

He grabbed the bottle in his hand and opened it, but he didn’t take the pill. He blinked slowly, staring at the bottle and closing it. “Fuck-” He muttered, hiding the bottle out of his sight once again.

It took him ten more hours to diagnose the patient. Three more hours to convince Cuddy he’s right. And seven hours for the patient to improve. Seven hours for the seven days he needed to make it. He counted down seconds like they were the last pills in his bottle. 

Wilson found House outside of his office, House has to keep from groaning. “You made it a week,” Wilson said, it sounded like a taunt. And maybe it was. 

“And won my prize.” It was a fake grin that plastered across his face. Wilson couldn’t see the difference for once. Maybe that’s how bruised and beat up his voice sounded. 

“Congratulations.”

“Cuddy’s a sucker, I would’ve done it for two weeks off.” An exaggerated wink seems to do the trick, Wilson gives a dry laugh and suddenly they were them again. House was overly obnoxious and Wilson was overly trusting. 

“Yeah, it was a piece of cake.” House rolled his eyes, entering his office. Maybe that would be the end. He could do his paperwork and go. “You learn anything?”

“Yeah, I’m an addict.” That’s an understatement.

Wilson followed behind him. The glass door shut with a soft  _ slam. _

“Uh, okay.” He looks at House, asking him to continue. House doesn’t.

“I’m not stopping,” He said finally. 

Wilson shook his overcaring, overbearing head. “There are programs. Cuddy would give you the time. You could get on a different pain management regimen –” He protested.

House cut him off quite rudely. “I don’t need to stop.”

“You just said…” House waved him off. 

“I said I was an addict. I didn’t say I had a problem. I pay my bills, I make my meals. I function.”  _ Barely _ . A quiet voice in his head added. It sounded like Chase. Chase wasn’t there anymore. He didn’t need Chase anymore. 

“Is that all you want? You have no relationships.” He had one. He had multiple in his past. He had Stacy. He had Wilson. He had Chase. 

“I don’t want any relationships.”  _ Liar _ . The Chase sounding voice bit back at him. House raised his voice. So did Wilson.

“You alienate people.”

“I’ve been alienating people since I was three.” 

“Oh, come on! Drop it! You don’t think you’ve changed in the last few years?!” Loaded question, Wilson. Didn’t Wilson know that that’s what House was an expert at avoiding?

“Well, of course, I have. I’ve, I’ve gotten older. My hair’s gotten thinner.” Chase would’ve laughed. “Sometimes I’m bored, sometimes I’m lonely, sometimes I wonder what it all means.”  _ You know what it means _ . He wanted to scream shut up. He wanted to scream in general. 

“No, I was there! You are not just a regular guy who’s getting older, you’ve changed! You’re miserable, and you’re afraid to face yourself –”  _ Shut up _ ! House’s mind screamed. Everything was loud, everything was harsh. 

Before he knew it, he slammed his cane down on the shelf, shocking both of them into silence. “Of course I’ve changed!” There was silence. Once again, Wilson wanted House to go on. Once again, House didn't. 

“And everything’s the leg? Nothing’s the pills? They haven’t done a thing to you?”

House’s glare had the fury of a thousand suns. “They let me do my job, and they take away my pain.” Wilson deflated, he took a deep breath and left the room. The slam of the glass door was only silenced by the pounding in his head.

House stared at the floor of his office for a while, and then he broke and grabbed the phone. He dialed a number that he knew all too well. “Robert?”

“Greg?” The Australian replied.

“I need you.” His voice was soft, he’d never admitted that to anyone before.

There was a sigh, and then a huff.

“I’ll be right there.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! comments and kudos are appreciated!  
> xoxo, ollie

**Author's Note:**

> you did it!! thank you so much for reading! i have a couple other fics in the works so be sure to check those out! thank you so much for reading! love y'all!!
> 
> xoxo, ollie


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